Watched this fly fishing documentary awhile ago and it is worth watching. I am in the process of watching it a second time. Truly a great film about the loss of what seemed inexhaustible at the time.
Click the link below to watch it.
Rivers of a Lost Coast
Showing posts with label steelhead. Show all posts
Showing posts with label steelhead. Show all posts
Monday, May 19, 2014
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
The Urgency of Fall
I awoke this morning to see a dusting of snow on the high peaks looming over the coastal town I call home. The snow makes sense when looking at the calendar but my mind revolts against the very idea that winter is bearing down on us.
The urgency of the season we call Fall is a blur. A blur because this season happens to be one of the best for outdoor pursuits, especially fishing in the Pacific Northwest. The remnants of this past summer are still available. Summer steelhead and saltwater salmon still give us one last taste of the warmer months that seem just like yesterday. Salmon are now pouring upriver with every rain and high tide. Sea run cutthroat prowl saltwater beaches and rise to dry flies in the fog draped river valleys.
There are too many options in the Fall. As I try to decide where to fish later this week I feel an urge that cannot be fulfilled. I still have places, rivers, and beaches I dreamed of fishing this summer and fall. Those dreams are burned into my memories and as long as winter stays away I keep the delusion alive that I still have a chance to take advantage of them. Like an addict I think if only the weather stays dry or the ocean breezes stay mild I could still take advantage of all that the Pacific Northwest offers. It is a fool's errand. Winter will eventually arrive. There is no stopping it's steady march towards our shores.
I will eventually accept the truth and start looking forward to what lies ahead. I just need another couple weeks.
The urgency of the season we call Fall is a blur. A blur because this season happens to be one of the best for outdoor pursuits, especially fishing in the Pacific Northwest. The remnants of this past summer are still available. Summer steelhead and saltwater salmon still give us one last taste of the warmer months that seem just like yesterday. Salmon are now pouring upriver with every rain and high tide. Sea run cutthroat prowl saltwater beaches and rise to dry flies in the fog draped river valleys.
There are too many options in the Fall. As I try to decide where to fish later this week I feel an urge that cannot be fulfilled. I still have places, rivers, and beaches I dreamed of fishing this summer and fall. Those dreams are burned into my memories and as long as winter stays away I keep the delusion alive that I still have a chance to take advantage of them. Like an addict I think if only the weather stays dry or the ocean breezes stay mild I could still take advantage of all that the Pacific Northwest offers. It is a fool's errand. Winter will eventually arrive. There is no stopping it's steady march towards our shores.
I will eventually accept the truth and start looking forward to what lies ahead. I just need another couple weeks.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
No Progress
"'After considering the best available information, we concluded that all listed salmon and steelhead species in Oregon, Washington and Idaho will retain their listing classifications,' the agency announced Monday. NOAA Fisheries' Northwest Region evaluated 17 species in all, including 13 Columbia-Snake River basin and four Puget Sound stocks.
The review addresses the status of the following “evolutionarily significant units” or “designated population segments” of, respectively, salmon or steelhead: upper Columbia River spring-run chinook; Snake River spring/summer-run chinook; Puget Sound chinook; lower Columbia River chinook; upper Willamette chinook; Snake River fall-run chinook; Hood Canal summer-run chum; Columbia River chum; lower Columbia River chinook; Snake River sockeye; Ozette Lake sockeye salmon; and upper Columbia River, middle Columbia River, Snake River basin, lower Columbia River, upper Willamette and Puget Sound steelhead."
Monday, August 8, 2011
Some Days
Some days are really special. Started this morning with some excellent fishing. Thanks Doug.
And the theme of the day continued when I picked this up at the Post Office.
And the theme of the day continued when I picked this up at the Post Office.
Monday, March 21, 2011
How things have changed
I got a chance to read a recent article in the Tacoma paper about "fly fishing" for steelhead on the Olympic Peninsula.
Link to TNT Article
Here are some quotes.
"I could see it was a steelhead, bringing a smile to my face. I also noticed something amiss – I had foul hooked the fish in the tail. That explained why the fairly small fish was putting up such a fight....I was now 0-for-2."
"Fancy flies aren’t always necessary to catch steelhead. A plastic bead and a bare hook often do just as well."
You decide whether this type of article is good for steelhead, the pressure on the West End rivers, or gives an accurate picture of fly fishing for winter steelhead.
Link to TNT Article
Here are some quotes.
"I could see it was a steelhead, bringing a smile to my face. I also noticed something amiss – I had foul hooked the fish in the tail. That explained why the fairly small fish was putting up such a fight....I was now 0-for-2."
"Fancy flies aren’t always necessary to catch steelhead. A plastic bead and a bare hook often do just as well."
You decide whether this type of article is good for steelhead, the pressure on the West End rivers, or gives an accurate picture of fly fishing for winter steelhead.
Friday, December 31, 2010
The year in review....
2010 was a great year.
The year started with a big move back to Washington State. The job situation didn't work out as expected, but being able to deal with unexpected issues and make changes is just part of life.
Summer was a blast. Lots of hiking and exploring. Checked out two fisheries I had always wanted to fish when I lived here previously. The true lesson is do not put off taking advantage of opportunities, and I know that I will strap on the pack and hit both of those fisheries again next summer. One highlight of the summer was one of the most visual skating dry fly takes I have ever seen. I can still picture the fly skating two feet in front of the exposed boulder and the fish coming up and exploding on the fly.
Summer also brought a couple trips back to the great big blue, the Pacific Ocean off of Neah Bay. This past summer wasn't the best year for salmon off the coast, but a good time was had and a few fish were caught. Next year I hope the silver runs increase and I can get out there and chase some on the cast fly.
This past year also marked my first serious attempt at gardening. There were successes and failures, but it is amazing how much quality food one can grow in a small residential lot. We were frankly getting a little tired of green beans, potatoes, and summer squash. Hopefully, this upcoming summer gives us a normal June and September weather wise.
I'm looking forward to 2011. I have a couple more trips to places I have always wanted to fish, along with more exploring of places I started learning last spring and summer.
Also for 2011, I hope we can all make time to send letters and attend meetings to speak for wild fish. I know I struggle to find the time, as it's easier to focus on fishing and life and ignore the fight that often seems as useful as pounding your head against the wall but wild fish are still just hanging on. It reminds me of one of my best days this past summer. I hooked four and landed two beautiful wild steelhead in about an hour and a half of fishing time. Going by fishing results, I was fishing over a huge run of steelhead. But this river now has a run of wild summer runs that might be 100 fish. I'll remind myself of that every time I hear people talk about great fishing. The trend is still going down, no matter how hard so many seem to be working at catching the last one.
Happy New Year!
The year started with a big move back to Washington State. The job situation didn't work out as expected, but being able to deal with unexpected issues and make changes is just part of life.
Summer was a blast. Lots of hiking and exploring. Checked out two fisheries I had always wanted to fish when I lived here previously. The true lesson is do not put off taking advantage of opportunities, and I know that I will strap on the pack and hit both of those fisheries again next summer. One highlight of the summer was one of the most visual skating dry fly takes I have ever seen. I can still picture the fly skating two feet in front of the exposed boulder and the fish coming up and exploding on the fly.
Summer also brought a couple trips back to the great big blue, the Pacific Ocean off of Neah Bay. This past summer wasn't the best year for salmon off the coast, but a good time was had and a few fish were caught. Next year I hope the silver runs increase and I can get out there and chase some on the cast fly.
This past year also marked my first serious attempt at gardening. There were successes and failures, but it is amazing how much quality food one can grow in a small residential lot. We were frankly getting a little tired of green beans, potatoes, and summer squash. Hopefully, this upcoming summer gives us a normal June and September weather wise.
I'm looking forward to 2011. I have a couple more trips to places I have always wanted to fish, along with more exploring of places I started learning last spring and summer.
Also for 2011, I hope we can all make time to send letters and attend meetings to speak for wild fish. I know I struggle to find the time, as it's easier to focus on fishing and life and ignore the fight that often seems as useful as pounding your head against the wall but wild fish are still just hanging on. It reminds me of one of my best days this past summer. I hooked four and landed two beautiful wild steelhead in about an hour and a half of fishing time. Going by fishing results, I was fishing over a huge run of steelhead. But this river now has a run of wild summer runs that might be 100 fish. I'll remind myself of that every time I hear people talk about great fishing. The trend is still going down, no matter how hard so many seem to be working at catching the last one.
Happy New Year!
Sunday, November 14, 2010
It Begins
It's that time of year, where chrome bright winter steelhead start moving up the rivers. The first part of the run is now mostly hatchery fish, but there are still a few resilient early natives mixed in. Yesterday I met one.
It was a classic NW Winter day. Low cloud cover, mid-40's temperature, and drizzle where the green of the forests is almost washed away by the oppressive gray pushing down from the sky. The river was dirty with about one to two feet of visibility, adding another surface of gray to the pallet. I worked my way downstream floating and fishing. I arrive at the run I wanted to focus on and start fishing. The fly is swinging well and about twenty casts into the run I feel a grab, and then nothing. The grab always feels like lightning going through your veins, but the lack of connection is always disappointing. This time of year, the question with a large grab is "what was that?" Was it a king, coho, or steelhead? A question I will never know.
I continued to work down the run as the current mellowed the fly started ticking the bottom and hanging up occasionally. The answer was a lighter tip, so I looped on five feet of T-14 and continued to fish. Then a swing was interrupted once a again by a pull. My mind quickly shifts back to fishing from gazing at the bald eagle squawking on the tall river side tree. I feel a second pull, then feel line start coming off my reel, and then come tight to a fish. Instantly the fish is running. I look towards the line streaming downstream and see white, the color of backing. Then a jump, and all I can see is a distant flash of silver in the air. I start moving down the gravel bar gaining back some of the line. This fish is strong and feels heavier than the fish I saw jump. I wonder if I have foul hooked a salmon because of the heavy feel. But I can gain line easily when the fish stops so that thought passes. Another couple fast runs and one of my favorite types of jumps happens. The fish jumps ten feet to the side of where your line enters the river. I work the fish quickly towards the beach. As I get it in the shallows I see that it is a steelhead with a big fat adipose fin and any thoughts of being foul hooked are gone when I see the fly lodged in the fish's mouth. I quickly grab the leader and tail this magnificent twelve pound hen as the hook falls out. I take a quick look at the perfectly clean fins and release my grip. She quickly charges off back into the gray water. After the release I am struck by this fish. The power and speed combined to make this one of the hottest fish I have ever hooked, including fish on rivers notorious for their hot steelhead.
I fished for a few more hours with the only other grab was a small bull trout, but I am struck by what a rare experience I had today. Early run native winter steelhead were historically much more abundant than they currently are. Decades of hatchery plants along with non-selective harvest have made this segment of the steelhead population a rarity. The fact that native fish continue to hold on in the face of everything we can throw at them amazes me. Sometime we fishermen get to see and hold a trace of the past, but far too often we are only left with the stories from old timers of what it used to be like. At least for today those are not just stories.
It was a classic NW Winter day. Low cloud cover, mid-40's temperature, and drizzle where the green of the forests is almost washed away by the oppressive gray pushing down from the sky. The river was dirty with about one to two feet of visibility, adding another surface of gray to the pallet. I worked my way downstream floating and fishing. I arrive at the run I wanted to focus on and start fishing. The fly is swinging well and about twenty casts into the run I feel a grab, and then nothing. The grab always feels like lightning going through your veins, but the lack of connection is always disappointing. This time of year, the question with a large grab is "what was that?" Was it a king, coho, or steelhead? A question I will never know.
I continued to work down the run as the current mellowed the fly started ticking the bottom and hanging up occasionally. The answer was a lighter tip, so I looped on five feet of T-14 and continued to fish. Then a swing was interrupted once a again by a pull. My mind quickly shifts back to fishing from gazing at the bald eagle squawking on the tall river side tree. I feel a second pull, then feel line start coming off my reel, and then come tight to a fish. Instantly the fish is running. I look towards the line streaming downstream and see white, the color of backing. Then a jump, and all I can see is a distant flash of silver in the air. I start moving down the gravel bar gaining back some of the line. This fish is strong and feels heavier than the fish I saw jump. I wonder if I have foul hooked a salmon because of the heavy feel. But I can gain line easily when the fish stops so that thought passes. Another couple fast runs and one of my favorite types of jumps happens. The fish jumps ten feet to the side of where your line enters the river. I work the fish quickly towards the beach. As I get it in the shallows I see that it is a steelhead with a big fat adipose fin and any thoughts of being foul hooked are gone when I see the fly lodged in the fish's mouth. I quickly grab the leader and tail this magnificent twelve pound hen as the hook falls out. I take a quick look at the perfectly clean fins and release my grip. She quickly charges off back into the gray water. After the release I am struck by this fish. The power and speed combined to make this one of the hottest fish I have ever hooked, including fish on rivers notorious for their hot steelhead.
I fished for a few more hours with the only other grab was a small bull trout, but I am struck by what a rare experience I had today. Early run native winter steelhead were historically much more abundant than they currently are. Decades of hatchery plants along with non-selective harvest have made this segment of the steelhead population a rarity. The fact that native fish continue to hold on in the face of everything we can throw at them amazes me. Sometime we fishermen get to see and hold a trace of the past, but far too often we are only left with the stories from old timers of what it used to be like. At least for today those are not just stories.
Monday, December 14, 2009
The Levee Broke
Looks like the last of the "healthy" wild steelhead runs in Washington State has failed to meet escapement. A recent thread on the Piscatorial Pursuits bulletin board (Click here for Thread) puts last seasons wild winter steelhead numbers on the Quillayute at 4700 wild steelhead. The escapement goal is 5900 fish. Let's also not forget that the Quillayute is a huge river system which includes the Sol Duc, Bogachiel, Calawah, and Dicky rivers. So that 5900 escapement figure is basically a joke to any one with a conservation bone in their body or who has any idea about the historical numbers these systems used to produce.
As sad as this news is, it might be a wakeup call for anglers and WDFW to change the management scheme (although pyramid or ponzi might better describe the current management scheme) so that in 10 years we cannot even imagine fishing over such low run sizes and that run sizes in 10 years are 3-5 times what they were last season.
If you have a chance send an e-mail to the WDFW Commission and let them know that under escapement is unacceptable and that strong harvest restrictions and hatchery reform is necessary to prevent this from happening again.
WDFW Commission e-mail
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Freak Out
The drift started uneventfully, worked my way down river stopping and swinging through one run in the cold morning shade. That was interesting. The rod, guides, and reel froze up quickly making working a good length of line with a short head pretty difficult. No fish, so I kept moving downstream. As I approached a drift boat plugging a tailout I saw them jump up as a steelhead took their plug. "Not a bad sign," I thought as a drifted past into the next run.
The next run already had anglers from boats in it, but they were focused on the lower end and drift fishing. I walked down to one of the anglers and asked if I could work the head of the run, further upstream. "No problem," was the response I was hoping for so I walked back to the raft, grabbed my rod and stepped into the water. I flipped my line out and thought my fly looked funny. I grabbed it and realized it was frozen solid... it was more number 2 pencil than a fluffy intruder-ish type fly. I warmed it up and started working my line out swinging the fly through the water. I was about to start stepping downstream after working my line out when I felt that pull. The cold probably slowed my reactions down as line started coming off the reel... but quickly the frozen thoughts warmed up and I went crazy. I lurched back on the rod like I was going to set the hook on a tarpon. I picture myself with my back angled 45 degrees from my hips pulling the rod backwards. Of course, I'm gonna blame the loss of the fish on a dull hook, a grab closer to the hangdown, or something other than the fact that I went beserk after months away from steelheading and then a massive slump since moving back to the Northwest fishing interior rivers enjoying record runs of steelhead. I'm sure a muttered a foul word or two before getting back to business and working this run twice before drifting further downstream.
I didn't encounter any other fish that day, but I swung some beautiful water and tried some water types I might have passed over on previous trips with the hope that come warmer temps and warmer seasons (spring) some native fish might be resting just primed to jump all over a swung fly.
Hope to get back soon and find my steelhead slump-buster. Hope these pictures get you thinking about swinging flies through emerald green glacial streams for your slump-buster, however long or short the slump is.
The next run already had anglers from boats in it, but they were focused on the lower end and drift fishing. I walked down to one of the anglers and asked if I could work the head of the run, further upstream. "No problem," was the response I was hoping for so I walked back to the raft, grabbed my rod and stepped into the water. I flipped my line out and thought my fly looked funny. I grabbed it and realized it was frozen solid... it was more number 2 pencil than a fluffy intruder-ish type fly. I warmed it up and started working my line out swinging the fly through the water. I was about to start stepping downstream after working my line out when I felt that pull. The cold probably slowed my reactions down as line started coming off the reel... but quickly the frozen thoughts warmed up and I went crazy. I lurched back on the rod like I was going to set the hook on a tarpon. I picture myself with my back angled 45 degrees from my hips pulling the rod backwards. Of course, I'm gonna blame the loss of the fish on a dull hook, a grab closer to the hangdown, or something other than the fact that I went beserk after months away from steelheading and then a massive slump since moving back to the Northwest fishing interior rivers enjoying record runs of steelhead. I'm sure a muttered a foul word or two before getting back to business and working this run twice before drifting further downstream.
I didn't encounter any other fish that day, but I swung some beautiful water and tried some water types I might have passed over on previous trips with the hope that come warmer temps and warmer seasons (spring) some native fish might be resting just primed to jump all over a swung fly.
Hope to get back soon and find my steelhead slump-buster. Hope these pictures get you thinking about swinging flies through emerald green glacial streams for your slump-buster, however long or short the slump is.
Finally, The River
The next morning was cold and the alarm clock is especially jarring when tucked into a warm sleeping bag. I shoved a quick breakfast into my stomach and started the car with enough time for the heaters to melt the ice on the inside of the windows. I drove to the takeout, packed everything I'd need for the day into the Water Master bag and started walking.
Walking along the frost covered roadways was interesting. The occasional log truck heading to work blew by. I quickly turned off the headlamp as the half moon illuminated the clear morning. Slowly, the gloves came off and then the hat was replaced with the hoody from my base layer. Carrying a 45 lb raft plus my gear was at least keeping me warm. Thank god for the Nice frame and sling I ordered from Mystery Ranch company (Mystery Ranch). Nothing like being able to put some of that weight on my hips.
I eventually made it off the main road and onto the dirt road leading to the launch. I walked another mile and a half as the distant sun started lightening the sky. Eventually I heard the rumble of a couple vehicles coming up from behind. The rattle was a sure sign one was towing a drift boat. Even though I was within a half a mile of the ramp, my thump shot out to attempt to save a bit of energy. The first vehicle passed but the truck towing the drift boat stopped. I jumped into the back of the pickup, although jump might not be the best term for climbing into the back of a pickup with a 50+ pound pack on. Off we drove to the launch. We drove out onto the gravel bar and I hopped out, gave a quick "Thanks!" to the driver and started getting my gear together.
I was still toasty from my human-propelled shuttle, but I was struck by something I hadn't seen before on river rocks.... hoar frost.
Walking along the frost covered roadways was interesting. The occasional log truck heading to work blew by. I quickly turned off the headlamp as the half moon illuminated the clear morning. Slowly, the gloves came off and then the hat was replaced with the hoody from my base layer. Carrying a 45 lb raft plus my gear was at least keeping me warm. Thank god for the Nice frame and sling I ordered from Mystery Ranch company (Mystery Ranch). Nothing like being able to put some of that weight on my hips.
I eventually made it off the main road and onto the dirt road leading to the launch. I walked another mile and a half as the distant sun started lightening the sky. Eventually I heard the rumble of a couple vehicles coming up from behind. The rattle was a sure sign one was towing a drift boat. Even though I was within a half a mile of the ramp, my thump shot out to attempt to save a bit of energy. The first vehicle passed but the truck towing the drift boat stopped. I jumped into the back of the pickup, although jump might not be the best term for climbing into the back of a pickup with a 50+ pound pack on. Off we drove to the launch. We drove out onto the gravel bar and I hopped out, gave a quick "Thanks!" to the driver and started getting my gear together.
I was still toasty from my human-propelled shuttle, but I was struck by something I hadn't seen before on river rocks.... hoar frost.
After getting geared up with foot warmers (the adhesive toe warmers work great), I pumped up the raft and slowly started floating down the river.
Friday, December 11, 2009
The Frigid Dusk
Just returned from my first trip back to the rainforest since last February. I always feel refreshed after spending a day fishing these beautiful wild rivers. I am a huge fan of the National Park system as well which only adds to the joy of being in such a place.
I arrived the night before and decided to see if there would be any space available in a coastal campground. Luckily for me, there was a spot or two to choose from. The truth is that I don't think any one else was there. The cold temperatures seemed to keep everyone away. I backed into the spot and built a fire and enjoyed some dinner.
I arrived the night before and decided to see if there would be any space available in a coastal campground. Luckily for me, there was a spot or two to choose from. The truth is that I don't think any one else was there. The cold temperatures seemed to keep everyone away. I backed into the spot and built a fire and enjoyed some dinner.
The sounds of the surf were soothing as I watched the sun slowly set over the clouds sitting offshore.
I enjoyed the view and as the skies darkened the stars came out. The milky way seemed to dive from the heavens into the pounding surf. The occasional shooting star grabbed my attention but I knew that it was going to be an early morning so with visions of grabby steelhead dancing in my head I fell asleep to the Pacific's roaring sound machine.
Next.... an even colder dawn.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Today is It!!!
Today is the final day to send in comments to the WDFW Commissions regarding 2010-2012 Sportfishing Rule changes. There's some important conservation proposals that need public comment, along with some strange ones like setting aside the best small-boat bottomfishing in the state for the dive community.
Here's a link to the proposals
http://wdfw.wa.gov/fish/regs/rule_proposals/
Send in your e-mails on this final day... this was my final paragraph
"Washington State has seen dramatic declines in all of the fish stocks. To act as though there are fish populations immune to overfishing and decline is just putting your head in the sand. The best time to act for the future is to protect populations when they are abundant and not wait until action is beyond necessary. This goes not only for rockfish, but all other fish populations in the Northwest. The time to pretend that the past management that put our fish stocks on the brink will continue to work on the few remaining stocks deemed healthy is over. In 50 year, will the pictures of wheelbarrows full of rockfish from 2009 be perceived the same way as pictures of stringers of 100 trout from a century ago? You stand on the brink with the power to lead our fisheries into the next century with the knowledge that comes from watching management failures and using updated science. You can march into the future, or be dragged backwards by the institutional inertia of failed policies. It’s your choice, but we are watching and future citizens will judge you on what you do now."
Here's a link to the proposals
http://wdfw.wa.gov/fish/regs/rule_proposals/
Send in your e-mails on this final day... this was my final paragraph
"Washington State has seen dramatic declines in all of the fish stocks. To act as though there are fish populations immune to overfishing and decline is just putting your head in the sand. The best time to act for the future is to protect populations when they are abundant and not wait until action is beyond necessary. This goes not only for rockfish, but all other fish populations in the Northwest. The time to pretend that the past management that put our fish stocks on the brink will continue to work on the few remaining stocks deemed healthy is over. In 50 year, will the pictures of wheelbarrows full of rockfish from 2009 be perceived the same way as pictures of stringers of 100 trout from a century ago? You stand on the brink with the power to lead our fisheries into the next century with the knowledge that comes from watching management failures and using updated science. You can march into the future, or be dragged backwards by the institutional inertia of failed policies. It’s your choice, but we are watching and future citizens will judge you on what you do now."
Sunday, November 29, 2009
How things have changed
Found this passage while re-reading Steelhead Paradise
"Tackle...
At the other extreme, I have a strong prejudice against the huge, two handed rods still widely used by British fishermen. I have found them very clumsy to handle, and not necessary on any streams I have ever fished either for steelhead or Atlantic salmon. My friend, Al Swinnerton of San Francisco, advised me that the Alta in Norway is just such a river. The swiftness of the current, the huge wet flies used, and the large size of the salmon all combine to dictate the use of unusually large and powerful tackle. It is only under such a set of circumstances, however, that I would concede the desirability of employing these old-fashioned 'telegraph poles.'"
My, how things have changed. Now, these old-fashioned "telegraph poles" are standard equipement on almost all steelhead rivers... of course they really are not telephone poles any more with the shorter and lighter weight spey rods. I know I really enjoyed fishing a 5/6 Loomis Metolius this fall. It held up throwing relatively large flies with tips on both the Deschutes and a Lake Erie trib. The trout I caught still were enjoyable and I didn't feel overgunned on the one bright lake-run steelhead I briefly hooked.
Hopefully, I'll still remember how to cast an old-fashioned "pencil" on smaller waters and the salt.
"Tackle...
At the other extreme, I have a strong prejudice against the huge, two handed rods still widely used by British fishermen. I have found them very clumsy to handle, and not necessary on any streams I have ever fished either for steelhead or Atlantic salmon. My friend, Al Swinnerton of San Francisco, advised me that the Alta in Norway is just such a river. The swiftness of the current, the huge wet flies used, and the large size of the salmon all combine to dictate the use of unusually large and powerful tackle. It is only under such a set of circumstances, however, that I would concede the desirability of employing these old-fashioned 'telegraph poles.'"
My, how things have changed. Now, these old-fashioned "telegraph poles" are standard equipement on almost all steelhead rivers... of course they really are not telephone poles any more with the shorter and lighter weight spey rods. I know I really enjoyed fishing a 5/6 Loomis Metolius this fall. It held up throwing relatively large flies with tips on both the Deschutes and a Lake Erie trib. The trout I caught still were enjoyable and I didn't feel overgunned on the one bright lake-run steelhead I briefly hooked.
Hopefully, I'll still remember how to cast an old-fashioned "pencil" on smaller waters and the salt.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Feels Just Right
Finally have put stakes back down in the Pacific Northwest. It just feels right to be back after a long absence (September 2005).
It's always interesting how people determine what defines "home." For me, it seems the draw has always been the place, and the Pacific Northwest just feels right. After 15 years of living in one area, I guess it's normal to feel connected to the area. 4 years away does little to make that feeling go away. Of course, Central Oregon is different from Western Washington but a desert river with steelhead, salmon, and native trout beats a desert river with foreign brown trout. While the NW fisheries have been so damaged by hatcheries, one can still find native fish in their proper place, not just found in a few high mountain lakes and streams.
I look forward to exploring new areas and of course spending some time relearning fly fishing for steelhead. My few trips so far have been a lot of fun, of course without touching any steelhead. The lack of fish has not been without rewards though. The smells and sounds of the river are always a treat. From the juniper and sage along the river trail to the odor of rotting salmon resting along the river bank after hopefully having a successful spawn to create the next generation.
I've been watching the river flows for my favorite coastal river, and it looks like anything I learned about the river last February will be worthless, as the massive flows will wipe the slate clean and make each trip this winter a scouting trip. What's strange is that this is exactly what I love most about this stream and I look forward to tromping through the tangle of stream side brush with the ground covered with a new layer of glacial mud.
This blog will serve as a sounding board for me. I will post about fishing, tying, conservation, and basically any random thing I feel like.
It's always interesting how people determine what defines "home." For me, it seems the draw has always been the place, and the Pacific Northwest just feels right. After 15 years of living in one area, I guess it's normal to feel connected to the area. 4 years away does little to make that feeling go away. Of course, Central Oregon is different from Western Washington but a desert river with steelhead, salmon, and native trout beats a desert river with foreign brown trout. While the NW fisheries have been so damaged by hatcheries, one can still find native fish in their proper place, not just found in a few high mountain lakes and streams.
I look forward to exploring new areas and of course spending some time relearning fly fishing for steelhead. My few trips so far have been a lot of fun, of course without touching any steelhead. The lack of fish has not been without rewards though. The smells and sounds of the river are always a treat. From the juniper and sage along the river trail to the odor of rotting salmon resting along the river bank after hopefully having a successful spawn to create the next generation.
I've been watching the river flows for my favorite coastal river, and it looks like anything I learned about the river last February will be worthless, as the massive flows will wipe the slate clean and make each trip this winter a scouting trip. What's strange is that this is exactly what I love most about this stream and I look forward to tromping through the tangle of stream side brush with the ground covered with a new layer of glacial mud.
This blog will serve as a sounding board for me. I will post about fishing, tying, conservation, and basically any random thing I feel like.
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